Eternity Awaits
by Orffyreus
Summary: Just a little something I came up with some time ago. A purely fictional and rather unsettling short AU version of my as yet unpublished season three. No Jameron, no nothing. I'm sorry, John...
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: This is a story I've had lying around as a draft for nearly a year now. It was inspired by the movie _Cyborg __Girl_ and is only supposed to be a sort of _what__ if_ version of what would have been possible in S3. It's just some silly idea I had. It has nothing to do with my other stories, nor will I continue the plot or use the idea ever again. I swear…

Eternity Awaits

Chapter One

_The past is the key that opens the doors we have locked from the inside.  
>Memory is the chain that holds those keys.<br>So go ahead, plunder the past. Search out those stories that may still set you free.  
>But beware. The flood that lies in memory's wake…<br>can drown you in a river of regrets,  
>for the past may be wrapped in a vale of tears. <em>

[Igor Goldkind]

60 years later…

The old man stood in front of the looking glass. Its surface was filthy, its frame mottled, and it looked as if it hadn't been used in years. A long crack ran down the middle of the ancient pane of glass. It had never been cleaned or polished, ever since…  
>But that didn't matter anymore.<p>

They had won.

Taken a beating, but won.

Muffled sounds of people celebrating drifted into the General's private quarters. He stared at his misty reflection in the mirror. A frail old man stared back at him, his body weak, his face lined and scarred.  
><em>At<em>_ least __the __dirty __glass __hides __some__ of __my __wrinkles__…_

They still called him _The __General_, even though he had been forced to retire from partaking of active warfare long ago. Age had finally caught up with him, yearning to reduce him to the General he had vowed never to become. The one who listens in to the battle from the reclining comfort of his office chair. The one who makes questionable decisions between luncheon, cricket, and dinner. The one lacking true experience.  
>Even though he was no longer able to storm the barbed wire fences like a one man mob and reduce anything in his path to a heap of bent and charred metal, he nevertheless still had his head in the game.<br>He was still the best teacher when it came to showing young resistance soldiers where to aim their weapons to disable a machine with a single shot. He was the one who taught them how to extract a machine's chip before it rebooted. And he was the one older soldiers spoke of in hushed, almost reverent tones and young privates idolized and worshipped like a hero of a bygone age.

The noises from outside had grown louder. Sighing, he turned away from the old man in the mirror and trudged over to the slit-like windows overlooking the plain from the fortified base camp built deep into the steep slopes of the mountainside.  
>Flares illuminated the darkening sky whilst fighter pilots flew their jet planes low over the mountain in a lap of honour. He shook his head.<br>_Sixty __years __and__ we__'__re__ still __using __jets__…_

Only hours before, Skynet's last ramparts had been taken, its bastions blown to smithereens and the evil Machine-God itself destroyed.

He knew she would be back soon. She had been the one who had entered Skynet's stronghold. He had assigned the mission to her and her alone. No one else was to face Skynet in its refuge, he had been adamant on that.  
>And his Generals still heeded to his every word. They respected <em>The <em>_Old __Man_, as they called him, and would never dare cross him. Even now, he still seemed to emanate a kind of strength, some form of energy which commanded total obedience.  
>They had ordered all their troops back to base and she had gone on.<br>Alone. Because hope never dies.

The Commodore of the_ Old __Man__'__s_ special unit had returned half an hour later and had curtly informed her men that Skynet was now history in this timeline. They hadn't understood the last bit but it made no difference. They had long ago given up on trying to fathom out the meaning of some of the Commodore's rather outlandish remarks. Just why the _Old__ Man_ had made her a Commodore, nobody knew, given that the navy had also been history for more than sixty years.

Skynet was no more.  
>It was as if the whole world had released the breath it had been holding. Battle-hardened soldiers broke down and cried, some hugged each other whilst others in view of the mountainside saluted their General, whom they knew to be watching.<p>

The old man smiled slightly and slowly turned away from the window. Just this once, he told himself, he would be observant enough to notice her entering. He also needed to ask her to do something. Something she had promised him over half a century ago.  
>The day they had buried the Reese brothers. Or what had remained of them. Colonel Derek Reese had died whilst shielding his terminally wounded brother from further deadly rounds of an HK's automatic weapons. His trusted mini cannon was still firing even after Colonel Reese had drawn his last breath and his body had slumped over the lifeless form of his kid brother.<p>

_That__ was __the __way __he__ would __have __wanted __to __go_, the General thought bitterly. _Not __getting __shot __in __the __head __just __like __that__…_  
>He only wished he could have left their remains to the grass.<p>

…

A sharp rap on the door tore his thoughts away from events long gone. Reluctantly, he let the memories he had dived into fade and returned to his imitation of life. With a sigh, he crossed the room and opened the door.  
>"Yes?"<p>

His Sergeant saluted him and stood aside. "Private Jenkins would like a word, Sir."

"Alright. Send him in" the General waved the man off.

The Sergeant left the door open and hurried off down the corridor to admit Private Jenkins.

"Oh dear" the old man groaned, as he sat down at his desk and his knee started playing him up again. "I shouldn't get up anymore."

He thought of the blissful warmth his hot water bottle had offered him which had eased the pain in his knee the night before. But his trusted old shrapnel wound from forty years ago would never let him down for long.  
>With a grin, he let the memories of that long gone day flood his mind. He remembered his platoon's amazement at how they had seen him take on an army of machines single handed, after having been reputedly injured only moments before by that terrible explosion on the minefield. He had miraculously risen unblemished from the ditch he had flung himself into and had danced across the minefield taking down one machine after the other with such precision and grace, his men had ever since rumoured that their General must somehow also be part machine. His grim determination and stoic expression when in combat not helping to derail them from their assumption.<br>Such was the old man's pleasure at recalling the past, he never noticed the shadowy figure silently glide into the room through the open door and head for the broken looking glass.

A sudden knock snapped him back to reality.  
>"Come in."<p>

Hesitantly, the young Private entered his General's lair. The old man sensed the youngster's trepidation and smiled. The boy seemed so young…  
><em>Just <em>_like__…_

Private Jenkins did a strange little military dance and snapped his heels together, then stood like a statue and offered his General an overdone salute, his eyes staring unblinkingly at the opposite wall.  
>"Permission to speak, Sirrr" he roared.<p>

The old man winced and nodded.  
>"Granted. And there's no need to shout, Private. I'm not completely deaf yet."<p>

"I'm sorry, Sir" the young man said in a tiny voice as he lowered his gaze to the floor. He seemed to shrink under his General's piercing stare.

"Calm down, lad" the old General said softly, trying to reassure him. "What was it you wanted?"

"Well, Sir, since the war is practically over, I would like to keep a promise I made to someone" he declared nervously, shuffling his feet.

"And?" the General inquired, his curiosity aroused. "What kind of promise?"  
><em>I <em>_hope __she __keeps __her __promise__…_

The young soldier cleared his throat and spoke, still not looking at his General.  
>"Well, Sir, you see, my fiancée and I promised each other that we would—"<p>

He fell silent as the old man lifted a hand.  
>"How old are you, son?"<p>

"Nineteen, Sir."

"And your fiancée?"

"Seventeen. She'll be eighteen in two week's—"

"You have my blessings."  
>His voice cracking slightly, the old General inclined his head and closed his eyes.<p>

Private Jenkins took this as a hint that he should leave.  
>"Thank you, Sir" he said in almost a whisper before he saluted and turned on the spot, striding towards the door.<p>

"Wait."

The young soldier stopped dead and turned to face his General, who had risen to his feet.  
>"Yes, Sir?"<p>

"Promise me" the old man said with a quavering voice. "Promise me you'll never let anything get between you. Promise me you'll always take care of her. While you still have the chance."

Jenkins opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. He simply stared at the old man and nodded, before finally managing to find his voice again.  
>"Promise" he said hoarsely.<p>

The General had a faraway look in his eyes and his gaze seemed to penetrate the young man's very soul.

_Promise__…_

The old man's body shook slightly as he drew a deep breath and folded his arms over his chest.

"Three weeks special leave for you and your fiancée" he suddenly instructed an astounded Jenkins. "You'll need the time for the preparations. And don't forget to celebrate."

With a smile, the General walked up to his subordinate and placed a hand on his shoulder.  
>"I suppose she is with us?"<p>

"Yes, Sir" Jenkins replied breathlessly. "Private Young, Sir."

"Young…" the old man repeated, as if the name had jogged his memory and brought back something he had long ago forgotten.  
>"She's not … related to an Alison Young by any chance, is she?"<p>

Private Jenkins' cheeks were flushed as he stammered an answer.  
>"That … that was her grandmother's name, Sir. She was in the resistance fifty years ago. Did you know her, Sir?"<p>

"Yes, son, I knew her" the General said with a weary sigh.  
>"And now please go. Dismissed."<p>

"Yes, Sir. And … thank you, Sir."  
>The young man snapped his heels together and gave a brief salute before turning and striding out the door.<p>

…

The mirror showed a single tear run down the old man's lined face. He had tried so hard to forget, so hard to remain unfeeling towards the people around him. It was only concentrating on his self imposed mission which helped him remain the man he had always been destined to become.  
><em>Fifty<em>_ years __ago__…_

Alison Young.  
>She had looked just like her. That alone had sufficed to break his heart every time he had seen her. He had not been able so stand being close to her, even occupying the same room had made him nervous. He had known all along it wasn't her and Alison couldn't help how she looked; she didn't even know. Nobody knew.<p>

The poor girl had been so young and had never understood why he seemed to hate her, shunning her the way he did and keeping out of her way.  
>She had liked him, he had been different, there had been something about him that had set him aside from the others. He had been a mystery, and she had tried so hard to solve the riddle this boy impersonated. She had been infatuated by his determination, the way he seemed to know things other people didn't. Secrets.<br>But someday she had given up on her teenage crush and had regarded him solely as her General. She had eventually become chief radio operator and had continued to serve in the resistance for years at a remote outpost, before the whole place had been blown up by metal.  
>He had never seen her again. He had never even known she'd had an offspring.<br>_Good__ for __you, __Alison. __Good__ for __you__…_

It was on days like these, when the memories took hold of him, that he missed her the most. And the pain in his chest he always felt when thinking of her seemed to have intensified. In the last few months he had started having trouble breathing when he became upset or strained himself. He supposed his pump was on the way out.  
><em>Nothing <em>_lasts __for__ever__ and __we __all __know __hearts __can __change__…_

Breathing a sigh, he took a step towards the mirror, intent on trying to discern the first ever scar he had acquired. It ran right down the side of his left cheek close to his ear, but he could hardly see it for wrinkles.  
>"Jeez, I'm older than God."<p>

The dull surface of the mirror rippled and his reflection was distorted. Instinctively, he took a step back, and then rolled his eyes.  
>"How come I never noticed you come in?"<p>

He shook his head at his now clear reflection.  
>"Come on, Commodore. I know you're there. You glitched."<p>

His reflection faded and the mirror turned into a shining silver sheet which liquefied and silently slid to the floor where it formed a quivering puddle. A shimmering blob erupted and stood erect, gradually taking on human form.

"I did not _glitch_, Mr. Connor. I merely found your statement to be of the amusing kind" the red haired woman said, giving him a withering look.

He waved her off, glancing at the original mirror still hanging there.  
>"Whatever. I saw it. And you took even longer this time. Was the mirror more complex?"<p>

"Not at all" she replied curtly, before raising an eyebrow. "We're just all getting older."

John let out a snort of laughter.  
>"As if you'd notice the years that have passed you by."<p>

"I don't" she informed him with a crude smile. "But observing you has always been of great assistance to help keep it in mind."

"Oh, thanks" he grumbled, shaking his head. "That's just what I need. As if that mirror isn't enough to show me how time flies."

Catherine Weaver turned away from him and marched over to his desk where she sat down and regarded him business-like, as if she were about to conduct a meeting.  
>"And speaking of time, Mr Connor, it has been acquired."<p>

John beamed at her and sat down opposite her on the high backed chair facing his desk.  
>"I expected nothing less, Catherine. Well done. Is it functional?"<p>

"In perfect working order" she replied, placing her hands together on the desk and throwing her hair back.

John interlaced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his chair.  
>"Well, Catherine, it seems your time is up, then. And about time, too."<p>

Her haughty expression faltered and she slowly tilted her head to one side.

"Please don't do that" John cried, abruptly sitting up straight.

"I'm sorry, Mr Connor" she said softly, closing her eyes and inclining her head.  
>"I am merely confused as to why my time should be up."<p>

"Because you're going back to 2008. You've fulfilled your mission here."  
>John's eyes were bright as he spoke. Catherine was intrigued at how his determination seemed to conquer his age.<p>

"No, Mr Connor" she informed him quietly. "I have not fully fulfilled my mission. And neither have you."

He knew what she was getting at. She had intended to find John Henry and use him against Skynet. That was why she had created him. John Henry shared Skynet's basic code. They had been one of a kind, like brothers. And he was supposed to have been the key to success. The way to stop Skynet.  
>She had explained it all to John shortly after they had arrived in 2027. That they needed to fight Skynet in the future to prevent it from recreating itself in the past. Or something like that. John hadn't understood her revelations about closed causality loops in space time. All he knew was that he also needed to find John Henry, to whom she had continually referred to as her <em>son<em>.  
>But she had never found him nor had he contacted her. And the chip John Henry had consequently stolen had stolen John's hope of ever returning home.<p>

"Yes you have" John insisted. "You've stopped Skynet. That's all that matters now. You don't need John Henry for that anymore. You did well on your own."

"Mr Connor, I do not agree. John Henry has—"

"I know he's still got her chip" John bellowed. "I've thought of nothing else day and night for the past sixty years. And now it's time to think of other things, as well."

Catherine regarded him with confusion.  
>"I would be grateful for a little more precision on your behalf, if you please."<p>

John rolled his eyes.  
><em>Jeez,<em>_ if __she __gets __any __slower __she__'__ll __be __going __back __in __time __of __her __own __accord__…_  
>"Do you remember Savannah, Catherine?"<p>

"My daughter" she replied promptly with a curt nod.

"Your daughter" he repeated imploringly. "Did you never ask yourself what became of her? Did you overlook the fact that nobody has ever heard of a Savannah Weaver since we arrived in this godforsaken hole?"

Surprise was prominent in her features as he continued.  
>"You always told me you cared for her. Now you can return and show her you can be her mother. You haven't changed, you're still the same. She won't notice anything."<p>

"But Mr Connor—" she began, before braking off as John held up a hand.

"No. I know what you're going to say. _I__'__m_ staying here. I still have my mission to fulfil. It's too late for me, anyway. Imagine what my Mom would say when this old goon hobbles up to her and says 'Hi Mom, it's me, John, I'm back. Sorry I'm late'. No, I'm not resting until I've found John Henry… and her chip."

Catherine was impressed by this human's profound devotion and commitment. She leaned forward and fixed him with eyes devoid of any warmth, yet spoke in a remarkably soft and sympathetic voice.  
>"And what do you intend to do once you have procured the chip?"<p>

John stared at her incredulously.  
>"Isn't that obvious? I'll send it back so you can restore her. You always claimed you would be able to do that."<p>

Catherine nodded.  
>"And my claim has as yet to be proven just. But unfortunately, you have omitted to take into consideration the fact that only objects surrounded by living tissue can be transported. Thus you cannot return the chip."<p>

_And__ she __says __she __doesn__'__t __age__…_  
>Putting his head in his hands John let out an audible breath before shaking his head and looking up at her again in disbelief. Choosing to ignore her rather pronounced offended expression, he continued to explain.<p>

"I haven't forgotten appearing butt naked twice, Catherine. I know inert objects don't go through. The chip will still be inside John Henry's head, of course. Once he's back you can do your magic and return her to her body. Perhaps you can also restore him to his system, repair him or reprogramme him or whatever."

Catherine's face displayed something John could only think of calling the liquid metal equivalent of being stunned. She sat back in her chair and continued to stare at him with cold eyes, her slightly open mouth betraying her astonishment.

"I wonder, Mr Connor" she began, before she paused and inclined her head, looking at him like a school mistress, a tiny smile present on her lips.  
>"I wonder if the trust you put into our kind is courtesy of your cyborg. I would have thought you would have adopted your mother's attitude when facing John Henry."<p>

"You mean blowing up the building and using thermite on him?" John presumed with a grin, imagining one of his mother's favourite pastimes.  
>"No, Catherine. I remember you telling me you hired Agent Ellison to teach John Henry that human life is sacred. I'll go one step further with that. Maybe you can teach him that <em>every<em> life is sacred. Especially … hers."

She re-adopted her business-like posture and regarded him strangely, a secret, crooked smile present on her lips.  
>"How do you know that is what she would want, Mr Connor? Perhaps she would prefer to stay here. With you."<p>

"What! With a tottering old ruin like me?" John exclaimed breathlessly.  
>"Come off it, Catherine. I want her to learn to live, to lead a real life."<p>

"That would be a life without you" Catherine concluded. "But what about the both of you, then?"

"We'll always have Red Valley. We didn't have, we lost it. But we got it back today."

_Today__…_

A schoolgirl's smile, bright and innocent, the first few moments he had shared with her, her words, her way of establishing contact with him. It all came flooding back as if it had happened only yesterday. He had clung to every second they had had, every whisper in every waking hour, imagining dreams they had never shared. And then he had started to believe it had all been part of someone else's life. Until today.

_Today__…_

Today Skynet had been defeated. The world would be reborn. And so would she, he could feel it. Finding the rogue terminator was only a matter of time. He had given order that every disabled Triple Eight was to be returned to base camp for inspection. He knew they would find him eventually. If only he could hold on long enough…

"Catherine" he suddenly addressed her, looking her imploringly in the eyes.  
>"You promised me something a long time ago. And it's done now. Please, Catherine, just this once."<p>

She gazed at him impassively for a while, before abruptly rising to her feet and giving him a curt nod.  
>"Very well."<p>

…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The machine strode over to the cracked looking glass and stood in front of it, turning her back on the old man. He saw her red hair's misty reflection in the dirty mirror, before her body seemed to go out of focus, shimmering like the ripples on a lake.

He closed his eyes and briefly turned away, as if he were unsure if this was the right thing to do. Steeling himself, he forced his body to turn back towards the mirror and opened his eyes again.

Long, silky brown hair flowed over her shoulders as she slowly turned to face him.  
>She was wearing the attire he remembered so well; leather jacket, denim trousers and combat boots. She was looking at him with that sad, longing expression that had always taken his breath away. The one that had haunted his dreams for sixty years.<br>She was just like he had so vividly remembered her. Beautiful. Shining…

"John?"

His heart leapt into his throat. There was no mistaking that soft, angelic voice, conveying such devotion and yet such insecurity.

The old man rose to his feet with difficulty, not taking his eyes off of her. Unsteadily, he walked over to where she was standing and extended a trembling hand. He wanted to feel her hair gliding through his fingers.  
><em>Just<em>_ this__ once__…_

He could almost smell her.

A smell is like a memory. It brings back all those things you have locked away so long ago. It reminds you of things you have treasured. The salty smell of seaweed on childhood's beaches. The interesting, calming odour of your favourite rubber teething ring as an infant.  
>It reminds you of things you have loved … or lost. It can fill your heart with joy, with blissful recollections of life's wonderful moments, or with terrible sadness, with things you have let slip away, things you have regretted, their memory mocking your impotence at retaking the past. Reducing you to a slave of time.<p>

Before his hand made contact, the old man hesitated. He let out a groan and clutched at his chest.  
>"No…"<p>

He retraced his steps and collapsed back onto the chair, taking deep breaths.

The young girl's form instantly vanished into shimmering silver.

"Is there anything wrong?"  
>Catherine Weaver approached his side, wearing a concerned frown.<p>

John raised his hand and waved her off, not wanting her to notice the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

"I'm fine. It's just … I miss her so much" he croaked, pressing his eyes shut and letting his head sink onto his chest.

She studied him for a moment before making up her mind.  
>"Mr Connor, there is something else I have acquired…"<p>

John looked up at her and watched her reach into one of the pockets of her business suit. She retracted her hand, delicately holding a shining flat object between her thumb and forefinger.

He knew immediately what it was. It was what had kept him going for sixty years, what had made him stay alive.  
>Slowly, almost dazedly, he got to his feet and extended his hand. Catherine carefully placed the chip on his upturned palm.<p>

He gasped. It was as if a current had shot through his body. He had to consciously fight the notion to brake down and cry, caressing the small piece of circuitry as if it were the spawn, the sheer essence of life.

"How did you… and where…?" he spluttered, covering the chip with his hands, trying to shield it from the world.

Catherine strode over to his desk and sat down once more, crossing her legs and straightening her suit as if resuming the meeting after a coffee break.

"John Henry has been united with his brother" she simply said, tossing her hair back.  
>"There will be no reprogramming or returning the AI to its system."<p>

"What do you mean?" John asked in bewilderment. "I thought he was like a son to you."

"Judas is no son of mine."

"Who?"

Catherine almost rolled her eyes.  
>"Evidently, home schooling has not achieved the goal it should have."<p>

…

Their footsteps echoed along the seemingly endless corridor reaching deep into the mountain. Skynet's base was also an underground recess, and it uncannily reminded John of the place he had called home for over half a century.  
>Catherine's form briefly shimmered as she replaced the Commodore's combat gear with her usual greyish business outfit.<p>

"That's better" she commented while she continued to stride purposefully ahead, her now high heeled shoes creating double the commotion her former combat boots had.

Just why she had chosen to reside in the _Catherine__ Weaver_ form and the uncomfortable looking dress code to go with it, John never knew. He guessed even liquid metal had its preferences, extravagant as they may be.

After they had left base camp and had been cheered and saluted at by everyone they had passed, they had headed straight for their former enemy's lair. Catherine had driven them there in a beeline in John's private dune buggy, taking no detours, and making sure they were not followed by anyone.  
>She had told him during the drive how she had literally bumped into John Henry where she had least expected him: In Skynet's main level, connected by his cord bus to the ultimate weapon's mainframe itself.<br>John could literally imagine his creepy smile as Catherine recited, with about as much emotion as if she were briefing her former employees about their new expert groups, how he had greeted her as innocently as always and had asked her outright '_Will __you__ join__ us?_'.  
>After she had declined he had willingly answered all her questions, the machines' logic forever remaining a mystery to John. Any human would have put up a fight or at least refused to reveal any tactical secrets out of sheer spite. But John Henry had not only offered her the information on the whereabouts of the time displacement equipment, he had also generously advised her on how to defeat his now actually quite defenceless brother, to whom he was linked.<p>

"Are you sure there are no traps in here?" John asked her, feeling all the more unsure the further they ventured into the mountain.  
>"No bombs, self destruct mechanisms or a hoard of Triple Eights waiting around the corner?"<p>

It had all been going far too easy for his liking.

"Positive" she said, as they finally reached the remains of a reinforced steel door which was set at the end of the corridor and bore deep lacerations around the lock and the security panel.  
>"The AI was so sure of itself it rendered the necessity for defences within its fortress' outer limits quite inconceivable."<p>

"I guess you're right" John murmured, gazing at the stainless steel walls of the hall beyond the door and missing any of the usual telltale signs of surveillance such as cameras or motion detectors.

There was nothing to prevent them from continuing their journey into the bowls of the enemy. Skynet had had no monsters up its sleeve, not even a laser screen or the guillotine doors John had expected to be present ever since he had played a certain computer game back in the early nineties as a kid.

An array of computer equipment was set up at the far end of the hall. Crude and unsophisticated, it reminded him of the first time he had seen the John Henry AI system back at Zeira Corp's basement, with the Turk amidst of it.  
>All the computer screens were blank apart from the blinking of a cursor. John didn't bother to check. He knew what that meant. Skynet had been formatted, to put it bluntly. And so had John Henry. Cromartie's body was sitting on a swivel chair, motionless like a puppet, his creepy smile locked forever on his face. If it hadn't have been for the open port in his head and the thin laceration visible on his shirt just above his power source, he may merely have been in standby.<p>

With a frown, John turned to the liquid metal machine standing behind him, which was patiently waiting for him to finish relishing over at last being able to experience what he had been striving to behold with his own eyes for over seventy years. The demise of Skynet.

"Catherine" he began uneasily, fumbling in his pocket for the chip he had carefully wrapped in the worn and crumpled antistatic bag he'd had on him for over half a century.  
>"If you deleted John Henry from the chip, what about—?"<p>

"Mr Connor" she interrupted him impatiently. "Please do not imply that I do not know what I am doing. I of course transferred the John Henry AI from the host chip to the Skynet mainframe before I deleted them both. The chip's original programming has remained unaltered."

John let out a sigh of relief and nodded.  
>"Fine. Let's blow the place. Bur first help me with him."<p>

He indicated towards the disabled machine in the chair and walked up to it, gripping one of its arms and pulling.  
>"I'm afraid I'm not as strong as I used to be."<p>

Catherine raised an eyebrow.  
>"You intend to salvage the Triple Eight's body? For what purpose?"<p>

John rolled his eyes.  
>"I already told you. You're taking him back with you together with the chip."<br>_These __machines,__ honestly__…_

Without another word, she stalked over to the lifeless terminator and effortlessly slung it over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, almost knocking John over in the process.

"Watch it!" he complained, just about managing to steady himself on the back of the chair.  
>"Breaking a leg is all I need."<p>

They left the Machine-God's sanctuary and strode once more through the endless corridor. As soon as they had reached daylight, Catherine handed John a tiny black box with a single red button.

John nodded and took it, turning to look once more down the corridor of doom.  
>"This is for you, Mom. Take that, you son's of bitches."<p>

The charges Catherine had placed amongst the computer array went off and the muffled sound of a far away explosion echoed through the corridor. John threw the now useless detonator into the gaping opening and deliberately turned his back on a matter dealt with, just like his mother would have done with a content smile on her face.

"Right" he said, as they headed for the vehicle parked at the foot of the mountain.  
>"Where did you say the TDE was situated?"<p>

Catherine glanced over the body slumped over her shoulder and cocked an eyebrow.  
>"I cannot recall having informed you of its location as yet."<p>

_I__'__ll__ get__ used__ to__ that__ some day. __And__ if __it__ takes __me __another __sixty __years__…_  
>John sighed and gazed skywards.<br>"Yeah. Okay. So where is it, then?"

"It is situated in a warehouse in the McGuire Gunnery Range" she told him as they approached the buggy.  
>"That is not very far from here."<p>

She dumped Cromartie's body in the back of the car and climbed into the driver's seat. John got in beside her and stared out of the windscreen, deep in thought.

_Depot__ 37 __is __a __military __ware house,__ a__ part __of __the __McGuire __Gunnery __Range.__  
>That<em>_'__s __where __I __was __built__…_

"I've heard that name before" John said absent-mindedly, while Catherine drove towards the remains of what had once been a city's industrial precinct.  
>"And I've been there. Depot 37. I wonder if it's still in there."<p>

Catherine spoke in a matter-of-factly tone without looking at him.  
>"Depot 37 was acquired by Zeira Corp shortly before we left. In the future we shared once before, the TDE facility was a huge asset to General Connor, after the resistance had managed to take control of it. Skynet suffered great losses because of this. I had wanted to be one step ahead this time and I presumed I had been. It seems I was mistaken."<p>

She stopped the car outside an intact building which seemed to consist solely of reinforced concrete.  
>"And how would you come to know of this facility, Mr Connor?"<p>

He had a faraway look in his eyes, as if reliving events he had long forgotten.  
>"She disabled a terminator and locked him inside the fallout shelter. He had been keeping a stash of coltan. She … gave me the key…"<p>

He trailed off and lowered his gaze to the floor as his eyes started to sting. Remembering where he had placed the key so many years before, he automatically reached into his pocket. The touch of the safely wrapped-up chip inside brought him back to the present.

Catherine turned to him, almost surprised.  
>"That explains the presence of a Triple Eight's remains, then. It sent Mr Murch into hysterics. He was able to learn so much from it after I had … <em>acquired<em> it. We removed the coltan to another company facility and installed the regeneration unit we used on the Triple Eight Mr Ellison procured for me."

"Cromartie?" John exclaimed breathlessly. "You repaired Cromartie in there?"

"Why, yes, Mr Connor" she replied calmly. "The body was in a close to irreparable state. You had done an excellent job of disabling him. And so it was thanks to your cyborg and yourself we had the necessary spare parts at our disposal."

"But why didn't you use the Triple Eight from the warehouse?" he asked in disbelief. "Why go to all the trouble of digging up Cromartie?"

Catherine actually seemed a little embarrassed.  
>"That would be because I did an even better job of … disabling it after I had entered the building" she admitted bashfully. "Nobody is perfect."<p>

John let out a snort of laughter and Catherine got out of the car in an obvious huff, treating him to her best disdainful look.

"There is one thing I don't understand, though" she declared as they crossed the debris-strewn plain, which had probably once been the building's parking lot.  
>"Before I transferred John Henry to the Skynet AI system he informed me <em>Mr<em>_ Connor __will __find__ what __he __is __seeking __in __Depot __37_. The TDE unit is, however, not located inside the depot, but inside this building."

John Henry's voice having suddenly briefly sounded from Catherine's mouth unnerved John. Even though he had seen the red haired woman change into many different people, including himself, over the years and speak in various voices, the mellow, creepy voice of the cyborg who had stolen his protector's chip sent a shiver down his spine.

"I couldn't say, either" he admitted rather baffled, slipping his hand inside his pocket and relishing in the feeling of the object he had been searching for for so long.  
>"He had it in his head what I was looking for."<p>

…

As far as John could see, the TDE unit seemed to be fully functional. Not that he had a clue on how to operate it, though. The first time he had jumped, he had been instructed on how to connect the strangest pieces of equipment he had ever seen which had been harboured in a bank's vault for years. The second time he had stepped into the bubble at the last possible moment, somehow knowing he would never see his mother again.

_I__'__ll__ stop__ it__…_

John thought of his mother and how she had always tried to keep her promises.  
><em>I <em>_wonder__ if __she __managed__…_

He watched the liquid metal machine twiddle various dials and depress some coloured buttons underneath a small screen.  
><em>Reminds <em>_me __of __a __Kaoss __Pad__…_

"Catherine" he exclaimed after a sudden thought struck him.  
>"Whatever happened to the machine in the bank?"<p>

She looked up from programming the TDE unit and stared at him blankly.  
>"I cannot recall committing with a terminator in a bank."<p>

"Not a terminator" John explained breathlessly.  
>"The TDE unit. The one I jumped to 2007 with. It was in a bank's vault. How come nobody ever found it? I mean, we just left it there, somebody must have noticed bits of machinery standing around that by rights should have made no sense."<p>

Catherine bared her teeth as if she were about to bite him, but John knew this expression to be her attempt at actually smiling.  
><em>She<em>_'__ll__ get __it __right __one __of __these __days__…_

"Zeira Corp acquired the building in question the same day you left" she informed him conversationally.  
>"Again without knowing it, you greatly aided me in achieving my goal. And with the preparation and construction of my own TDE unit. The instruments you said you left behind were, although crude and partly disrupted by the explosion of an isotope weapon, still operational."<p>

John's jaw dropped.  
>"Zeira Corp had its hands into everything, didn't it?"<p>

"Why yes, Mr Connor" Catherine admitted with an unmistakable trace of pride.  
>"It has proved to be a veritable and most valuable asset. I must say I chose well."<p>

She turned back to the instrument panel and powered the machine up. A faint humming sound filled the air as she keyed in coordinates, times and dates.

"Five dimensions?" John asked, trying to make sense of the multi-dimensional display and giving up immediately because his head started to spin.  
>"How on earth do you get five dimensions?"<p>

Catherine gave him a kind, almost sympathetic look as if she had been asked why the sky is blue by her daughter.  
>"In addition to the three dimensions you might be familiar with, we also have to take the dimension of time into consideration."<p>

"That's four" John exclaimed with a frown. "The display seems to have a fifth setting."

With something akin to an impatient sigh Catherine spoke in a slow and clear voice as if explaining something to someone not quite the ticket.  
>"That is because time is a constant, Mr Connor. Just as you are able to move about in your three spatial dimensions, you are also able to move about in time."<p>

"But time flows, Catherine" he pointed out. "It doesn't stay still, just look at me. I'm the best example."

"You have grown older through time" she clarified, gazing at his wrinkles and deciding she would have to alter her appearance to compensate for the human aging process if she really were to continue to act as Ms Weaver back in 2008.  
>"Just because you move through space doesn't alter it. The dimensions remain as they were and the same goes for time. You flow, Mr Connor, time does not. And to find a point—"<p>

"Fine. But that's still four dimensions" he interrupted her. "Where do we get a fifth one from?"

"Patience is a virtue which I need to teach you, Mr Connor" she said dangerously, folding her arms over her chest and scowling at him.  
>"I was just about to elaborate."<p>

John practically shrank back under her disapproving stare.  
>"Sorry" he muttered, awkwardly shuffling his feet, feeling sixteen again and as if he were being reprimanded by his mother.<p>

"As I was saying, to find a point in time we are required to obtain a fifth coordinate. Timestate, or, as your physicists call it, spacetime" she went on mechanically, like a school teacher resuming the lesson after an interruption.  
>"In our five-dimensional system we are now able to create a triangle between our current location in three dimensional space and time as humans measure it as well as the point in time we strive to arrive at. The five-point vector offers us our destination."<p>

"Eh?"

Catherine simply ignored him and finished making the final adjustments to the TDE unit.  
><em>Sometimes <em>_I __really__ don__'__t __know__ why __I __bother __explaining__…_

For the third time in his life, John saw the brilliant bluish-white time bubble materialize itself. He thought this unit must be more sophisticated than the others had been because the bubble remained perfectly stable without the usual spitting or hissing.  
><em>Just<em>_ like __a __gateway__…_  
>Also, Catherine did not seem like she were in a hurry. He supposed you just stepped into this bubble and pressed go whenever you felt like it.<br>_Brill__…_

Catherine stepped away from the panels and turned to face him.  
>"Are you sure about this, Mr Connor?"<p>

John nodded. "Yes, I'm sure. Give my regards to Savannah and Ellison … and tell Mom I love her."  
><em>I <em>_wonder __if __she __stopped __it. __I __wonder __if __she __took __care __of __her __body__—…_

"I will."  
>She inclined her head and strode across the room towards the entrance.<br>"I shall collect John Henry's body and—"

"No."

Catherine stopped in her tracks and slowly turned around, her eyebrows halfway up her forehead.  
>"I beg your pardon?"<p>

"No. I'm sorry, Catherine, you can't take him with you right now" John exclaimed breathlessly. "I still need to do something. I'll send him along later. Is that possible?"

She nodded, even though she still seemed a little surprised, if not confused.  
>"I have programmed the unit with the appropriate coordinates. They will remain set for you to return the body together with the chip at a later time. What is it you wish to do?"<p>

"I'm not sure, I just have a hunch, that's all" he told her pensively. "I know you're not too comfortable with _having __hunches_."

Catherine bared her teeth. "I have got used to your hunches over the years and I must say they have sometimes served you quite well. To use a rather dated expression: _A__ man__'__s__ godda__ do __what__ a__ man__'__s__ godda__ do_."

John burst out laughing at the sudden deep Yankee voice she spoke in, reminding him of some terrible Western he had once seen as a boy.

She stepped up to the time bubble and glanced back over her shoulder once more.

"Wait" John exclaimed, rushing over to her, a concerned look on his face.

Now they had finally reached the parting of the ways he realised with a sudden stab of regret that his only friend was about to leave forever. He had never thought of her as a friend, not for sixty years, not until today.

"Take care, Catherine" he said, embracing the liquid metal machine and giving her a brief peck on the cheek.

He took a step back and watched her press a button on the panel before she entered the glistening globe of light. She turned around and stood still, her head held high, just how he would always remember her.

"Be careful out there, Mr Connor" she said, her first genuine smile on her lips.

And then she was gone.

…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

John slammed on the brakes and the dune buggy skidded to a halt outside the depot's reinforced steel doors. He got out of the driver's seat, held his aching back and gazed at Cromartie's body lying lifelessly in the back.  
><em>I<em>_ might __still __need __you __if __I__'__m __wrong__…_

He picked his way between the piles of rubble scattered outside the depot which had once been part of a warehouse. This had been the place where he had actually thought he was never going to see her again. Sixty years ago. When he had got himself locked inside with the coltan-keeper terminator.  
>The doors hadn't changed a bit, even the writing – faded as is was – was still visible. The only thing he needed now was the key.<br>_Damn! __How__ am __I __gonna __get __in?__…_

A rectangular metal box mounted on the wall to the left of the doors caught his eye. It hadn't been there last time. As John approached it he found it to be a ten digit keypad. The letter 'Z' embossed on the panel made him grin.  
><em>Thanks <em>_Catherine. __You __always __were __ahead __of __your__ time__…_

John stood in front of the panel and squinted at the keypad.  
>"I wonder—" he thought aloud, lifting his right hand and letting his index finger hover over the keys.<br>"Yeah, it just must be. It always is. Because no one else would have known it here. Apart from her – and me."

Something he had long ago said to his mother while standing in front of a built in safe surfaced from the depths of his mind as he entered the sequence.

_It__'__s__ a__ date.__  
>Judgement <em>_Day__…_

A green LED lighting up and a deafening grinding noise told him he had been right. The enormous metal doors slowly began to slide open, the half a century old machinery screaming in protest. The crack gradually grew wide enough for John to be able to peek inside.  
>Cold, stagnant air wafted over his face as the cavernous interior was dimly lit up by the diffuse light shining in through the opening.<br>With a final ear-splitting squeal of metal against metal, the doors shuddered to a halt and a deadly silence engulfed the scene.

Breathing heavily, John winced and clutched his side.  
><em>I<em>_'__m__ getting__ too__ old __for__ this__…_  
>Slowly, he headed back to the dune buggy. He intended to drive into the depot as far as he could to have the vehicle ready for a quick getaway. Constant vigilance was something akin to a habit of his. He supposed being hunted by killer robots for over seventy years had made him a little preoccupied with security.<p>

John carefully manoeuvred the buggy around the piles of debris and through the opening. In the vehicle's headlights, he could see a glass door set into the far wall in the distance.  
>Positioning the buggy so that its lights illuminated the glass door, John switched off the engine and got out.<br>Suddenly feeling terribly tired and worn out, he approached the door. Another keypad was located on the wall next to it. Scratching his head, John wearily considered the digits.  
><em>It<em>_ can__'__t __be. __Not __again,__ surely__…_

Then an envelope propped up against the wall under the keypad's panel caught his eye. His old bones creaking in protest, John bent down and picked it up off the ground. Sighing, he held on to the panel to steady himself. Bending down somehow always seemed to make him dizzy these days. Once his head had stopped spinning, he glanced at the envelope in his hands.  
>He nearly dropped it with a start as he noticed his mother's handwriting.<p>

_To John Connor_

Hesitantly, his hand shaking, the old man reached into the envelope and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He opened it up and stared at the words his mother had scribbled down.

_Happy Birthday_

It made no sense whatsoever. He had somehow expected something cryptic like this, but 'Happy Birthday'! For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why she should have left him this particular note. His birthday hadn't been due for another few months after he had left. And Sarah surely couldn't have intended to remind him of his last birthday they had never really got round to celebrate.  
>When she had gone bad. The most terrible day in his life apart from…<p>

He turned round to look at the dune buggy. On a sudden impulse, he ambled up to it and opened the vehicle's rear hatch. With a tremendous effort, he managed to tug the machine out of the car and prop it up against its side. John Henry stared vacantly at the glass door, his creepy smile still in place.

"You're going to watch" John hissed, as his fist collided with the jaw of the machine that had taken everything from a love never meant to be.  
>Sure that he had broken a few of his knuckles and pressing his right hand firmly under his left armpit, John staggered over to the keypad, his breath coming out in short rasps. He keyed in the sequence he somehow knew was the only one it could be. The green light on the keypad and the quiet hiss of the door gliding open as the interior of the room beyond was lit up by numerous neon lights told him he had guessed correctly.<br>_My __Birthday.__ Thanks,__ Mom__…_

…

It was as if he had entered an ancient pharaoh's sealed tomb, a place hidden away for millennia. He took a deep breath of what he knew was the air his mother had once breathed. Air which had been kept locked away, a remnant of another place in another time.

The bed-sized box was attached to a self contained computer array. Powered by some sophisticated uninterruptible supply, it had remained functional for sixty years. Zeira Corp's regeneration unit was still operational, its numerous lamps blinking ever so often together with a quiet humming sound in the background.  
><em>Reminds<em>_ me__ of__ that__ movie__ with __Luke __Warmwater__'__s__ carbonite__ chamber__…_

Forcing the silly notion aside, John cautiously approached the coffin-like apparatus. Hesitantly, he gripped the double sets of handles mounted in the middle of one side.  
>He just had to know.<p>

With a click and a brief hiss, the lid opened and both sections slid back silently. White, steam-like mist leaked out, spilling over the box's rim before it gradually dispersed and allowed the interior to become visible.

_We__ were__ both__ young __when __I __first __saw __you__…_  
>General John Connor sank to his knees and clung to the side of the box, a sharp pain in his chest taking his breath away.<p>

She was lying there as if she were sleeping. Her dark eyes were closed forever and her brown hair flowed around her shoulders. She had been perfectly preserved, all the injuries she had sustained had healed and her skin had completely regenerated itself.  
>He closed his eyes and the flashbacks started. He could almost see that schoolgirl's smile from so long ago, feel the touch of her hand on his shoulder, feel her hair glide through his fingers.<br>_She __is __still __the __same. __She __still __has __silky __hair. __She __will __be __forever __young __and __I __will __love __her __forever__…_

The pain in his chest causing him to gasp, John pulled himself up on the side of the box and unsteadily reached into his pocket. His hands shaking more than ever, he eventually managed to locate the frayed plastic bag into which he had placed her chip.  
>Standing there as if he were watching her sleeping made him think of the morning of the last day they had spent.<br>_It__ still __feels __like __the __first __night __together. __I __remember __the __touch __of __your __skin. __I __remember __everything__…_

The old man's tears dropped onto the cyborg's lifeless body. He wiped them off his cheeks vigorously with the sleeve of his jacket and was just about to try and brush them off her trousers and jacket when he noticed something lying beside her inside the regeneration unit.  
>Reaching in with utmost care, John took out a screwdriver, a Stanley knife and two letters, again addressed in his mother's handwriting.<p>

One read

_John_

and the other

_Cameron_

…

_John,_

I persuaded Mr Murch to hook her up to this regeneration station. Ellison opened up to me about how they repaired Cromartie in here. He's still in hospital but I suppose he'll be back on the job again soon enough.  
>I don't know how long it will take for her body to repair itself, but I hope she'll be in one piece again when you see her. If you're reading this letter in the future then the depot must have survived Judgement Day. I pray you found her chip and I hope you'll both come home soon.<br>I promised you I'd stop it. One way or another.

_Love,  
>Mum<em>

_PS:__ The __key __is __just __in __case_

General Connor let the sixty year old letter drop to the floor. He leant heavily on the sides of Cameron's resting place, his grief so pronounced it caused his knees to give way.  
><em>Home<em>_… __  
>I<em>_ love __you, __Mom. __I__'__m __sorry__…_

He knew his mother would have gone on. She would have continued to fight Skynet in their past until she drew her last breath. His thoughts drifted over to James Ellison, forcing the lump in his throat away and subconsciously bringing a smile to his face.  
><em>I <em>_bet __Mom __didn__'__t __turn __him __over __on __his __stomach __when __she__'__d __finished__ with __him__…_

John reached for the envelope he had placed on top of the above instrument panel. Turning it upside down, a key on a long thin chain slid out onto his palm.  
>It was the key to the depot. The one that let you out. The one Cameron had proudly given him so many years before.<p>

_Just__ in __case__…_

Revelation suddenly set in.  
>"She knew I wouldn't come back…"<p>

He placed the key in his pocket and pulled out the antistatic bag. Carefully, he extracted the chip from the plastic bag and laid it down gently together with his mother's envelope on top of the panel. He then picked up the Stanley knife and stepped up to the top end of the regeneration unit.  
>With grim determination, he pushed the razor-sharp blade into her scalp where he knew her chip port was. Pushing down hard until he felt her endoskeleton, he cut a semicircle just like she had instructed him so many years before.<br>_Fifty __years __worth __of __experience __in __extracting __chips __from __heads__ also __helps __a __bit_, he supposed. Once he had cut far enough he put the knife down and flapped back her scalp, revealing her glistening port cover. John inserted the screwdriver's tip into the cover's slot and turned. With a pop, the cover opened and he carefully pushed it aside, letting it stick to the underside of her scalp.

Taking utmost care not to exert too much pressure, he picked up the chip and delicately gripped its end with the needle-nosed pliers. Wishing his hand would stop shaking so much, he slowly inserted the chip into its socket and gave it a half turn clockwise.

…

The old man's breath came out in short, rasping gasps as he gently pressed the loose bit of scalp back against her endoskeleton. Sinking to his knees once more, he slowly brushed her hair out of her face and tenderly stroked her forehead. She looked so peaceful lying there, it tore at his heart.  
><em>Trouble <em>_was __her __only __friend__…_

Cameron's head jerked.

An excruciating pain coursed through the old man's body, causing him to double up with a groan. Unable to keep upright, unable to maintain any coherent thought, he sank to the ground, his breathing shallow and irregular.

"I'm sorry, John."

Her voice sounded from within the regeneration unit even before she had sat up.  
>But John didn't hear her. The terrible pain he had experienced had given way to a blissful feeling of relaxation. Of enlightenment. Sounds and sights never before beholden filled his mind, offering him a glimpse of eternity where all times that ever have been and ever shall be are all as one.<p>

"John?"

Something was pulling him back. Something familiar, a voice so pure it sounded across the aeons. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

She was kneeling beside him, her face a blank mask, her hand on his chest.

"I'll join all the lost souls" he wheezed in a mere whisper. "Take care of yours."

With a smile, the old man placed his hand over hers and gave it a light squeeze. His hand jerked once and relaxed.

Tears leaked out of her eyes and ran down her cheeks as she sat watching him breathing for the last time. She reached out and lovingly ran her hand over the lined face, its features blending with her memory of the boy's it had once been.

"I'll always find you."

Cameron abruptly rose to her feet and walked over to the compartment she had risen from. She made adjustments to the regeneration unit's controls and set them to indefinite operation. Just as she was about to climb in and lay down ready to enter standby forever, she noticed an envelope lying inside near the foot end.  
>Her name was written on the envelope in Sarah Connor's handwriting. Curious, she opened it and pulled out a letter.<p>

_Dear Cameron,_

just for once let me call you this. If you are reading this letter then John must have managed to bring you back. I placed you into the regeneration station hoping you'd be able to help him in the future. If he comes back with your chip then you should be fixed by the time he does. If not, then all I'm asking of you is to take care of my son. Please.  
>I hope you'll both be home soon. I've made pancakes.<p>

_Sarah_

_PS:__ Just__ in __case_

The ancient writing blurred as the cyborg's tears spilled onto the letter. She folded the piece of paper and turned the envelope upside down.  
>A silver pocket watch slipped out onto her outstretched palm.<p>

Cameron at once recognized the present she had given her John so long ago. Tilting her head, she opened the pocket watch and stared at the three coloured buttons fastened to the inside. After what seemed like hours, she tore her gaze off the silver timepiece and glanced at the regeneration unit. It had bought her sixty years of borrowed time.

…

A deactivated terminator stood sentinel at the depot's entrance as an explosion echoed through the empty halls.  
>The lone figure an eternal custodian of a love that conquered all.<p>

The end

Author's note & quotes: 

This concludes my excursion into realms I actually never wanted to behold. I'm sure I shall receive no kind words for this blasphemy but I thought I'd give the story a chance.

The 'introduction' is taken from the story _The Clown_ in the _2000 __AD yearbook 1994_ comic and belongs to _Igor Goldkind_ and/or _Fleetway_.

The phrase _Nothing__ lasts __forever __and__ we __all __know__ hearts __can __change_ is taken and adapted from the song _November__ Rain_ by _Guns__ 'N__ Roses_.

The phrase _We__'__ll__ always __have__ Red__ Valley.__ We__ didn__'__t__ have.__ We__ lost__ it.__ But__ we__ got__ it__ back__ today_ is taken and adapted from the 1942 motion picture _Casablanca_.

The term _carbonite __chamber_ belongs to _Lucasfilm_.

The phrase _We__ were __both __young__ when __I __first __saw__ you_ is taken from the song _Love __Story_ by _Taylor __Swift_.

The phrase _It__ still__ feels __like__ the__ first__ night__ together.__ I __remember__ the __touch__ of__ your__ skin.__ I __remember__ everything_ is taken and adapted from the song _Please __Forgive __Me_ by _Brian__ Adams_.

The phrase _Trouble __was __her __only __friend_ is taken and adapted from the song _Carry __You __Home_ by _James __Blunt_.

The _Kaoss Pad_ belongs to Korg UK ltd.


End file.
